


Lavish

by Lady_T_220



Category: Cabin Pressure
Genre: First Time, Fluff, M/M, Romance, Smut, Virginity
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-06-04
Updated: 2012-06-04
Packaged: 2017-11-06 19:30:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,095
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/422403
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lady_T_220/pseuds/Lady_T_220
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>For once in his life Douglas is in absolutely no rush at all, which is good because Martin is capable of making continental drift look hasty.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Lavish

**Author's Note:**

> Written for Perhael in the Cabin Pressure Fic Exchange, from a prompt asking for Douglas/Martin smut with virgin!Martin.

It's something that a year ago Douglas would never have imagined he'd want. Now he's seen it, of course, he finds he can no longer think of anything else. He, a three-time-husband and the seducer of a thousand stewardesses, is captivated and for once it's not by the temptation of rounded hips and shapely breasts, but by another sort of creature entirely.

It shouldn't be a surprise - it _isn't_ a surprise - because by God it's taken them long enough to get here, but the actual moment where potential finally becomes reality is like nothing else he's ever experienced.

Martin is stretched out underneath him on the bed, shirtless and barefoot, his eyes wide and compliant, his face a mask of such complete beatific surrender that it makes Douglas breathless. He drags just the very tips of his fingers across Martin's bare stomach and the noise Martin makes in response is tremulous, barely even a sigh, full lower lip catching between his teeth as Douglas leans down to press a single, reverent kiss just above the dip of his bellybutton.

"Don't, I like hearing you," Douglas murmurs. He leans up to brush his thumb across Martin's bitten lip, freeing it from the pinch of blunt, white teeth before returning to explore lazily over the crest of a rose-pink nipple. The nub of flesh is soft and warm, sliding back and forth in the gap between Douglas's fingers as he brushes the broad expanse of his palm across Martin's chest.

Martin makes a low, strangled groan at the sensation, arching up in invitation as Douglas smiles. He'd never have thought it, but since they started this he's discovered that beneath the prickly, officious exterior, Martin is the most lavishly sensual creature he has ever had the pleasure of taking to bed.

Perhaps it's simply his innocence, or maybe it's a side-effect of being so totally touch-starved for so very long, but Martin seems to bask in the pleasure of even the most innocent caress. Whatever the cause, it can't seem to dampen the gut-deep pleasure Douglas takes at knowing he is the only person to see Martin this way. They haven't even taken their trousers off yet and the boy is already undone, fingers curled desperately into the bedding in lieu of having the confidence to reach out and touch in return.

This isn't a totally new experience, of course. Douglas has spent more nights necking on the sofa with Martin than he has with anyone at any point since he was a teenager. Perhaps that's because, in some respects, Martin still is one. Compared to the passionate burst of sexual infatuation Douglas would have anticipated from a more experienced partner, Martin has been moving them at something akin to glacial slowness. Douglas would be the first to admit to his silent frustration - not to mention his loathing of the blue-balled ache of denial that follows when Martin demurs in the face of anything more intense than a little light petting - but despite all that, he can't quite bring himself to deny Martin the experience of that first sense of sexual awakening either.

The confession that Martin was still a virgin had come relatively early between them, only a week or so after it became apparent that their relationship was changing. Douglas wouldn't have given it much thought either way, but it had quickly been painfully obvious that Martin himself was both intensely and deeply humiliated by it. That had been the first night Douglas had kissed him - the first night that Martin had ever kissed anybody - and as a result every single one of the twenty-seven different plans he had been cultivating for the smooth and efficient seduction of his captain had been very quietly discarded.

Of course Douglas can't feel too chivalrous or hard done by in reality. Those long evenings of gradual discovery have brought their own, more intimate, pleasures. He has definitely enjoyed spending sweet, lazy hours engaged in nothing more than the languid pleasure of kissing. It's something he hasn't done in a very long time and he had somehow forgotten the simple satisfaction of leaving his lover's mouth swollen and kiss-bruised, plush lips a scarlet slash against the paleness of Martin's passion-drugged face.

It's the same face which looks up at him now, eyes heavy-lidded with anticipation, hungry for something he knows Martin can't quite name. He drags his palm down Martin's bare side to rest over his hip, holding the cloth-covered jut of angular bones as he leans down to taste that gently parted mouth. Martin sighs against Douglas's kiss, relaxing at this familiar ground as Douglas settles more completely in the gap between Martin's slender thighs. The closeness, the press of another body and skin against skin, makes Martin inhale softly in surprise. His knees tighten either side of Douglas and his mouth drops open at the foreign, sweet-hard pressure bearing down steadily between his legs.

Martin's skin is peppered with goosebumps, cool and shivery against the warmth of Douglas's chest. The lightest brush of fingers makes him twitch, muscles taut with the strangeness of being so intimately touched. He hisses at the ticklish stroke of fingertips being dragged up his spine, only relaxing again once Douglas's left hand has insinuated itself between Martin's shoulders and the bed beneath him, cocooning him in Douglas's arms.

Douglas kisses him slowly, sweetly, the soft tug of lips meeting and parting for long minutes until Martin's fists eventually free themselves from the bedsheets and curl into Douglas's hair instead. Martin whimpers, a soft, plaintive mew as the hand on his hip rises to cup his jaw, tilting his head back enough for Douglas to deepen the kiss into a languorous exploration of Martin's tongue.

When they break for air Martin is left panting, eyes shut in blissful abandon as Douglas nuzzles gently against the side of his tip-tilted nose.

"Alright?" Douglas murmurs.

Martin swallows and nods, eyelids cracking open just a fraction to stare adoringly at the man above him. The silence seems to stretch between them, taut and heavy as their gazes meet, only the ticking of the bedside clock breaking the stalemate before Martin's mouth begins to widen slightly into a nervous little grin.

"Hello," he says awkwardly. It's peculiar and self-effacing but very typically Martin and Douglas raises one eyebrow slightly.

"Hello," Douglas returns. Nose to nose as they are, there's not much else he can really say. He glances down at where their bodies are so intimately pressed together, Martin's ankles tangled around Douglas's calves. He looks back up, bemused, Martin's face slightly blurry at such close proximity. "Though I think we might have possibly reached beyond that point, now."

Martin can't help but giggle, cheeks flushing as he squeezes his legs tighter around Douglas's thighs.

"I don't know what you want me to say," Martin admits. "It all sounds rather silly in my head."

Douglas purses his lips as he considers his answer.

"If it helps, I always find 'Yes' is a good place to start."

He leans down and kisses Martin briefly, the lightest flick of his tongue skimming Martin's bottom lip. "And, 'More'..."

Kiss.

"Or 'Touch me',"

Kiss.

"'Harder', that's quite good,"

Kiss.

"'Like that',"

Kiss.

"'Up a bit', 'Right there', or sometimes even, 'Oh Douglas, you are a God among lovers'..."

Martin chokes out a surprised bark of laughter and Douglas pauses, a smile curling just at the edge of his mouth.

"What? Don't like that one? How about-"

Martin silences him by bringing both hands up to Douglas's face, framing his jaw as he pulls him closer.

"Oh, Douglas," Martin says. He flattens his lips to try and quell the smirk threatening to escape. "You are a God among lovers, and I love you."

Douglas can't help but falter, his heart stuttering in his chest as an overwhelming swell of affection washes hotly through him.

"Good," Douglas purrs. "I like that one a lot."

They kiss again, mouths joining, parting, reconnecting each time with the damp sweetness of shared breath. Martin arches his back, hungry now for contact, a moan running through him as Douglas strokes possessively over his bare side. The edge of his thumb brushes Martin's nipple again, flicking purposefully at the soft little bud. It is tender and pink and defenseless under the callused heat of Douglas's touch, his fingers feeling overly large against the delicate bones of too-visible ribs as he rubs slow circles over the flat areola.

"Still with me?" Douglas asks. "Tell me the bits you like." He nips at Martin's cheek and jaw, tasting the side of Martin's throat before mouthing softly at the baby-smooth skin where his neck meets the milk-white curve of his shoulder.

Martin hitches and gasps, head tilting automatically to grant more access to Douglas's delicately exploring mouth, little nibbles and sucking kisses worrying at the sensitive flesh. Martin squirms up instinctively against the reassuring solidity of the body above him.

"Yes," he breathes. "Ah-"

The last exclamation is an abortive little hitch as Douglas abandons Martin's nipple to slide his hand between them instead, gently cupping the firm warmth of Martin's genitals though the thin cotton of his trousers.

"Mm-" Martin writhes against the reassuring weight pinning him to the sheets, his fingers scrabbling against Douglas's shoulders as he clings on. Douglas's thumb rubs slowly and carefully down the swelling ridge of Martin's erection, fingers curling to mould protectively around the soft heat of his balls.

"Douglas..." Martin gasps. "That's- ah, God..."

Douglas's head pops up, his lips wet and shiny from the darkening bruise he's sucked into the base of Martin's neck, eyes wild and hot as they stare down at the deliciously tempting creature beneath him.

Martin blinks up at him, eyes glassy and dazed with arousal as his hands pull at Douglas's shoulders pleadingly.

"More," he manages. His eyes squeeze shut and he strains his neck back, rutting plaintively against Douglas's palm. "I... I want..."

Douglas can't help but watch him, seared to the core from the intensity of Martin's need. Douglas's jaw clenches shut so hard he can feel his teeth grinding as he squeezes possessively on the heavy flesh filling his grasp.

"God, anything," he manages.

When he kisses Martin again it is with a harder, more frenzied edge and Martin jerks up into it greedily, legs wrapping tightly around Douglas's hips as they rock together on top of the bedclothes.

Douglas unwraps his arms from around Martin, kissing away the distressed whimper it causes, before parting from those hungrily seeking lips just enough to press his forehead into the pillows by Martin's ear. He pushes his weight up onto his knees, lifting himself enough to slide both hands into the gap formed between their bodies. It's barely enough space to fumble with the buttons and fastening on his trousers and he curses softly as his zip sticks, wrenching it loose before starting on Martin's belt.

It takes a moment to free them from the constraints of their clothing, the scrape of Martin's fingers raking through Douglas's hair as much a distraction as encouragement. Martin lets him yank the careworn fabric down, exposing the lurid press of Martin's erection as it strains up inside the threadbare knit of his underwear. Douglas eases that away too, cloth bunching around Martin's thighs before hot, possessive hands roam back to squeeze the curve of his exquisitely rounded bottom.

"Gorgeous," Douglas breathes. "You have no idea..."

One palm still plastered to Martin's backside, Douglas clumsily shoves his own trousers and jockeys down, hissing in relief at the freedom it brings. He opens his eyes half way, just in time to watch Martin peer down inquisitively to see what he's doing. Douglas takes firm hold of his own erection and strokes himself greedily, fist tight around his cock, the foreskin rolling lazily back and forth beneath his fingers. Martin swallows roughly at the sight.

He can feel Martin's bare toes curl against his legs, a bead of pre-come welling at the tip of Martin's flushed cock as it rests vulnerably against his belly. Martin twists his neck to press moist lips against Douglas's cheek a moment later, kissing pleadingly at his jaw. It is warm and soft and achingly innocent, just the faint scrape of stubble prickling against his skin, Martin's breath shaky and laboured with need.

"I want- ...let me touch you?" Douglas chokes out. Martin nods frantically, burying his face against Douglas's shoulder and groaning helplessly as Douglas's palm closes warmly around the rigid, desperate length of him. Martin is not particularly huge, but then his whole body is slight and Douglas aches with desire as he imagines sliding his mouth around that beautiful, slim cock and swallowing it completely to the root. He could take Martin down in one go; he could tease him and finger him until he was spread wide and sobbing with desire, and Douglas groans at the mental image it produces.

Martin is beautiful - sweat-pricked, colour high - and Douglas props himself up on the elbow of his free arm to kiss those plush, helpless lips again. Martin seems almost beyond himself already, breath stuttering in his lungs as Douglas pumps his cock slowly, fingers trailing over the damp tip on each upstroke to torment the sensitised head. Douglas slows to a halt, silencing Martin's cry of protest with a deep, punishing kiss as he holds the hot, twitching shaft in his broad palm. He squeezes slightly, Martin leaking freely and copiously over Douglas's fingers, his hand growing slick as Martin's nails scrape stinging tracks across Douglas's bare arms.

"Please," Martin whines desperately. "Close... oh-"

Douglas knows he is unable to refuse that tone. He growls deeply, loosening his grip only enough to push his own cock into the circle of his curled fist alongside Martin's. The feeling is incomparable and his hips jerk as he grinds feverishly into the slick, warm friction he finds there.

Martin flinches and cries out, expression somewhere between agony and abandon as Douglas's cock rubs back and forth against the underside of his trapped penis. It's hot and slippery, the weight of it ridged and hard and entirely different from even the most enthusiastic fingers.

Douglas huffs and pants, fighting off his own release as Martin jerks and whines underneath him. Douglas feels him strain up into the shifting tightness surrounding his flesh, rutting and crying out with a breathless little sob that turns into a choked curse as he finally comes, tensed and blindly writhing through the ecstatic bliss of orgasm.

Martin's release spills fast and thick, translucent whiteness pooling into Douglas's palm. The heat and the wet, musky smell of it is enough to catapult Douglas to the brink of his own climax and he drops his head onto Martin's trembling shoulder, smearing his shaft with the evidence of Martin's release and jacking hard until he finally shoots, slick and sticky, across Martin's stomach.

He collapses with a groan, feeling Martin hold onto him tighter as they rock slowly together, rutting gently against the deep flutter of post-orgasmic pleasure. Douglas holds his wet, dripping hand out to one side as he finds and consumes Martin's mouth one last time, riding the edge of sensual pleasure for as long as it will let them.

Martin heaves for breath when Douglas finally releases his lips, eyes shut and cheeks scarlet as he relaxes the grip he had on Douglas's body. Douglas fumbles for the box of tissues on the bedside table, wadding up a couple and wiping the worst of the mess off his fingers before tiredly rolling off Martin and mopping at the drying splatter that had been left on the boy's belly.

He wipes his own, softening cock last, before tossing the used Kleenex somewhere in the vicinity of the bedroom bin. He shucks off his underwear and trousers, arms wobbly with exhaustion and joints loose with the memory of release. When he looks over, Martin is watching him with a softly unreadable expression on his face and Douglas raises an eyebrow questioningly.

Martin just smiles at him, his expression growing lazy and sated before Douglas rolls close once more, cupping the back of Martin's head. He kisses him chastely, just once, on the lips.

"You OK?" Douglas breathes.

Martin reaches up and pulls him closer, hugging him with adoring, breathless intensity as he curls his arms tightly around Douglas's neck. Douglas smooths his fingers down Martin's flank, easing the bunched-up trousers and underpants down to Martin's knees, low enough that they can be kicked off to land inside-out on the bedroom carpet.

Douglas wraps his arms around Martin's slight frame and rolls them over, letting him sprawl on top, head coming to rest on Douglas's shoulder. Martin's hand splays across the flat of Douglas's sternum, fingers twining drowsily in the smattering of hair that forms a cross over the centre of his chest.

"So, darling, how was it for you?" Douglas asks and Martin's shoulders shake as he starts to giggle once again.

"I have no idea why we waited so long," he finally admits. Douglas raises his eyes heavenward as Martin brushes his lips across the chest beneath his cheek. There's a moment of silence, warm and contented enough that Douglas is just about to consider drifting off, when Martin fidgets experimentally against him and suddenly jerks his head up.

"Can we do it again?" he asks.

Douglas stares at him blankly. "What, right now?"

Martin shrugs, blushing a little. A quick glance down confirms Douglas's suspicion. Martin's cock, having never quite returned to flaccid to begin with, is already perking a little at the flood of hormones still swamping its owner.

Douglas makes an odd sort of whine at the back of his throat. "Much as I am gratified by your enthusiasm, Martin, I'm not as young as I once was. You might have to give me an hour or two first if you want _complete_ reciprocity..."

He takes one look at Martin's bashful discomfort and mentally resigns himself to the loss of his fondly anticipated nap.

"On the other hand, of course..."

He flips Martin over onto his side and shimmies down the bed, gripping one bare, bony thigh until he's eye to eye with Martin's partially-renewed erection.

"Douglas?" Martin queries. There's a faint breathless tremor in his voice as Douglas smirks up at him wickedly.

The recuperative power of the young is a frequently wasted thing, Douglas muses. And he _had_ been wondering how well Martin's cock would fit in his mouth.


End file.
